


perchance to dream

by ElasticElla



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Dream Sex, F/F, Horror, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: The doppelganger connection is different.
Relationships: Elena Gilbert/Katherine Pierce
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team





	perchance to dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



The first time you see her, it is as if your mind is playing a cruel trick on you. Another version of you, through the mirror darkly, more beautiful and poised, out of mourning and a regular person once more. Or perhaps a vision of what you could have been if you didn’t go to that one party, if the car accident hadn’t happened, if – 

Her teeth sink into your neck and you wake. 

.

You keep dreaming of her, and the more you do, the less she seems like you. A fun-house mirror, only you’re the drab stretched out copy. The real question is: do you create the distance between her and you because it is truly there or to ease the guilt for the sheer level of narcissism of dreaming up your own face every night. Of whatever high level masochistic masturbation fucking your better half is. Of how she's so much better at getting you off, even in the same damn body. Your parents just died and all you can think of – 

She catches your eye in every reflective surface, you are never alone. You try fucking yourself, awake, as though the lackluster feelings would summon her. (As if it could compare.)

It doesn’t. 

Leaves you alone, disappointed and damp, showering it all off. (But then you see her in the fogged bathroom mirror, see how very bright her eyes are.)

.

She kills you, over and over again. Most often with her teeth in your neck, most often with you waking in bed, a bitten off scream. 

Sometimes you don’t wake. 

Sometimes she snaps your neck, and your heart stops beating, and you still exist with her. 

She isn’t alive you’ve learned. There are so few things you’ve learned about her. The taste of her mouth, the feel of her nails raking down your side, the shock of her fist pumping up into you. The sharpness of her teeth tearing your throat out, the sweetness of her kisses as you choke on nothingness. The smell of her perfume – oddly old-fashioned. 

Words aren’t needed, aren’t noticed until you wake. When all the questions that have been burning about this mysterious not-you come back. It takes months until she speaks, until she trusts you with her voice. (A laugh, for truly, it is already yours.)

She kisses your inner thigh over a fresh bite, blood on her lips. Black lines her eyes, and they meet yours. Her words echo into waking life, “Come find me.”


End file.
